find together.”
“Ah,” I said. “Forest air at night with snow and sand and dirt and exhaust thrown into it.”
“And ripped foliage and broken trees,” Bains said. “One time a windstorm blew down a pine near our house. I went out right after I heard the crack and boom. The piney turpentine scent coming from that broken pine was powerful, like it was calling out its distress. Right up there with the scent you get out of a wood chipper eating pine branches.” Bains gestured at the trees below. “Now that I think of it, it may be that these smaller broken trees are actually firs – I’m not much of a tree guy – but the scent is pretty much the same.”
Bains pointed down at the wreckage, a bit of blue mixed into the green and brown and snow-white forest. “You mentioned exhaust smells. Not that it matters, but a Prius like that maybe wasn’t making exhaust. Those things can go pretty fast on just their electric motors without ever turning on their gas engines, especially when they’re coming down a steep road like the one above this switchback.”
“Good point. Any chance the bakery trucker noticed the time?”
At that moment both chainsaws revved up loud and Bains had to nearly shout in my ear.
“The nine-one-one call was logged in at four-forty-three this morning. Our first deputies on the scene could find nothing but the marks in the snow at the edge of the drop-off. They even shined a searchlight, but all they saw in the dark was a mess of broken trees and shrubs. It wasn’t until morning light that they were able to hike down and find the wreckage. It took two more trips up and down to lower a rescue toboggan and the pry bars they used to bust out what was left of the windshield and remove the body. The slope is so steep and the snow so deep that they hooked the wrecker cable to the toboggan and one guy on each side guided it up the slope while the wrecker pulled. Afterward, they hauled the wrecker line back down to repeat the process with the vehicle.”
The chainsaws dropped back to idle, and the wrecker reeled in more cable.
“You get a coroner’s report yet?”
Bains shook his head. “No, but I saw the body, so I know it will say blunt-force trauma as cause of death.”
“Under the influence?” I said.
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“You ever seen a druggie drive a Prius? Priuses are the granola crowd. People who get their buzz from green tea. I’d be surprised if we find out he was on anything more powerful.”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
The wreckage was now just one hundred feet below us. From the condition of the car, I could already tell that Manuel’s death was probably an instantaneous one.
Behind us, two deputies were taking pictures of the vague skid marks. One had the camera. The other held a big floodlight despite the cloudy daylight. They moved to different positions for each of several sets of photos.
I’m not an expert in skid marks, but even I could see that what visual evidence there was would reveal very little under any analysis. Manuel was going much too fast, skidded, and went off the mountain. Not much more information could be squeezed out of the snow.
Fifteen minutes later, the wreckage was up to the edge of the drop-off. It looked like someone had ground up the Prius in a giant eggbeater, then stomped on it until it was mostly flat.
The wrecker driver got in the cab and pulled forward enough to drag the Prius carcass onto the flat ground behind the truck, just to the side of the cone perimeter around the skid marks. Then the driver tilted the cargo bed of the truck back until the trailing edge touched the ground.
Bains waved at the driver, who stuck his head out the window.
“Hold up a bit until we can look at the wreckage?”
“Sure, man, but I’m on a clock. Longer it takes me to get back to the garage, the more likely I’ll miss other calls.”
“We’ll be quick,” Bains said.
Bains came back, and we both studied the
“Ah,” I said. “Forest air at night with snow and sand and dirt and exhaust thrown into it.”
“And ripped foliage and broken trees,” Bains said. “One time a windstorm blew down a pine near our house. I went out right after I heard the crack and boom. The piney turpentine scent coming from that broken pine was powerful, like it was calling out its distress. Right up there with the scent you get out of a wood chipper eating pine branches.” Bains gestured at the trees below. “Now that I think of it, it may be that these smaller broken trees are actually firs – I’m not much of a tree guy – but the scent is pretty much the same.”
Bains pointed down at the wreckage, a bit of blue mixed into the green and brown and snow-white forest. “You mentioned exhaust smells. Not that it matters, but a Prius like that maybe wasn’t making exhaust. Those things can go pretty fast on just their electric motors without ever turning on their gas engines, especially when they’re coming down a steep road like the one above this switchback.”
“Good point. Any chance the bakery trucker noticed the time?”
At that moment both chainsaws revved up loud and Bains had to nearly shout in my ear.
“The nine-one-one call was logged in at four-forty-three this morning. Our first deputies on the scene could find nothing but the marks in the snow at the edge of the drop-off. They even shined a searchlight, but all they saw in the dark was a mess of broken trees and shrubs. It wasn’t until morning light that they were able to hike down and find the wreckage. It took two more trips up and down to lower a rescue toboggan and the pry bars they used to bust out what was left of the windshield and remove the body. The slope is so steep and the snow so deep that they hooked the wrecker cable to the toboggan and one guy on each side guided it up the slope while the wrecker pulled. Afterward, they hauled the wrecker line back down to repeat the process with the vehicle.”
The chainsaws dropped back to idle, and the wrecker reeled in more cable.
“You get a coroner’s report yet?”
Bains shook his head. “No, but I saw the body, so I know it will say blunt-force trauma as cause of death.”
“Under the influence?” I said.
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“You ever seen a druggie drive a Prius? Priuses are the granola crowd. People who get their buzz from green tea. I’d be surprised if we find out he was on anything more powerful.”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
The wreckage was now just one hundred feet below us. From the condition of the car, I could already tell that Manuel’s death was probably an instantaneous one.
Behind us, two deputies were taking pictures of the vague skid marks. One had the camera. The other held a big floodlight despite the cloudy daylight. They moved to different positions for each of several sets of photos.
I’m not an expert in skid marks, but even I could see that what visual evidence there was would reveal very little under any analysis. Manuel was going much too fast, skidded, and went off the mountain. Not much more information could be squeezed out of the snow.
Fifteen minutes later, the wreckage was up to the edge of the drop-off. It looked like someone had ground up the Prius in a giant eggbeater, then stomped on it until it was mostly flat.
The wrecker driver got in the cab and pulled forward enough to drag the Prius carcass onto the flat ground behind the truck, just to the side of the cone perimeter around the skid marks. Then the driver tilted the cargo bed of the truck back until the trailing edge touched the ground.
Bains waved at the driver, who stuck his head out the window.
“Hold up a bit until we can look at the wreckage?”
“Sure, man, but I’m on a clock. Longer it takes me to get back to the garage, the more likely I’ll miss other calls.”
“We’ll be quick,” Bains said.
Bains came back, and we both studied the
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